


A Product of Social Excess

by Noragami



Category: Death Note
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crimes & Criminals, Detectives, Drug Use, Explicit Language, Gangsters, M/M, Organized Crime, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-15 20:40:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3461285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noragami/pseuds/Noragami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professional hitman Light Yagami receives a strange letter from none other than the world-famous and ever-cryptic detective L, inviting him to work alongside him doing detective work in the city of Nottingham, England. Their first case together will be to uncover a secret drug ring that is rumored to be alive and buzzing with activity, somehow always escaping the not-so-sharp eyes of the local British police force. However, shadowy and dangerous pasts haunt both young men, proving to make their mission a little more complicated than expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Soo wow this is my first work on AO3. Hello everyone!  
> I'm not sure if I've ever written a long-running fic before but I really want to try it out.  
> Formatting might prove to be a little confusing, but hey, I'll get the hang of it soon.  
> This story is gonna be very LawLight centric with little focus on other characters,  
> just as a kind of starting point for me. I've had this idea buzzing around in my head  
> for a little while and I finally decided to make an AO3 account and post it somewhere!  
> I'm also hoping to use this as a good experience to improve my writing, so please,  
> feel free to comment (or however this AO3 site works) to tell me how I'm doing!  
> Please enjoy! Feedback very much sought after and enjoyed!

      The initial letter of contact had come to Light Yagami as quite a surprise, for exactly three reasons. For one, the letter in question was not from a client, and therefore had little reason to know of his temporary hotel address without Light having sent it out. Secondly, he'd found the crisp, flat envelope laying neatly on the foot of his bed. This simple happenstance thus went on to shatter Light's sense of long-running security that he was rather good at keeping out of sight, and was already making plans to leave the hotel as quickly as possible once he'd satiated his curiosity over the letter's contents. Finally, there were the contents themselves. As slightly calloused fingers tore the end of the envelope open, his thumb covering up the colorful stamp of the Queen of England--apparently the sender was a Brit, or at the very least, sent it from an address in the United Kingdom--as he held the envelope steady. When he slid the letter out and opened it, a passport and a plane ticket dropped out and narrowly missed the edge of the bedspread on their way to the floor.

      "Shit," Light murmured, bending down to pick up the fallen papers, and frowning as he noticed the corner of yet another slip of paper poking out from beneath the bed. Under normal circumstances, one might think something else had fallen, or perhaps it was left there by the previous renter of the hotel room, but Light Yagami had scoured the place thoroughly once he'd checked in.

      Not to mention the fact that he kept his gun under there.

      Another quiet curse muttered out of Light with a questioning lilt to the end of it. Who the hell had been in his room? Who'd had the thought to look under the bed? It had to be someone who personally knew him, or they wouldn't have gotten past security. While it was true that Light used his given name to check into hotels, it was all fine and good and safe, to a certain extent. In the underbelly of the world of paid assassination, he went by a different pseudonym that he couldn't say he was terribly fond of, but had caught on unnaturally quickly through whispers and referrals.

      Kira. A ridiculously corny name, given its meaning, if Light was honest with himself.

      With a soft grunt Light pulled out the closed case containing his .22 and laid it down on the bed, abandoning the letter and other various things on the floor for the time being, and frowning at the slip of paper sticking halfway out of the locked lid of the case. Locked. Completely locked, and yet... there it was. Slowly, Light tugged on the slip of paper to free it, and frowned when he found that it caught on something at the end. He could only make out half of the message on it.

_...you, to confirm your identity to me._

      Light was already fiddling with the four digit lock on the clasp, trying to put aside the very concerning realization that it had been left on different numbers than when Light had gone out that evening.  _2481,_ instead of Light's usual  _1981_. It was a simple enough number to use, partially because it was the year of Light's birth, and partially because one could break it down to a kind of code, wherein the first  _1_ corresponded with _K_ , _(1)1_ , and the following  _9 (1)8 1_ with  _I R A_. Light supposed he got a certain kind of satisfaction from the almost cheeky coincidence. The code he used to unlock the case, however, was simple memorization of numbers that meant nothing, and that was what was safest, in Light's opinion.

      Or what he figured was safest. But apparently, someone had not only figured out Light's location, but also broken into his room, found his gun case, opened it, left a note and a letter, closed it, and left before Light came home the following morning before the sun came up. Someone from Britain. In comparison to how much this person apparently knew, Light knew just about nothing, and in all honesty, that scared him just a little bit. The lid clicked open once the numbers had slid into place, and Light stared at the .22 rifle, completely intact and untouched. Wide brown eyes, quickly lidding with a kind of strange relief that at least they hadn't taken his gun--never mind the suspicion of sabotage that Light would address later, flicked to stare at the slip of paper, which he could now see was stapled securely in a loop around an elegant, silver teaspoon.

      "Fucking hell," Light grumbled, rubbing a hand over his face as he picked up the paper and lightweight spoon. It was too early in the morning for this kind of oddity. He might as well be Alice in Wonderland, except the tiny, elegant teaspoon was laying inside a _gun case_ , and there weren't any white rabbits anywhere. Hopefully. At this point, Light was just about ready for anything, and wanted none of it. Finally uncovered, the note was fully legible, and typed in cold, impersonal Times New Roman.

       _Once you step off the plane, bring this spoon with you, to confirm your identity to me._

_\- L_

      As his eyes read over the note, his initial reaction was confusion, and then it hit him that he hadn't even read the letter. Cursing a third, perhaps fourth time in the past few minutes, Light carelessly tossed the spoon onto the bed and bent down to retrieve the papers again, opening the letter up and smoothing it out a bit to read over what he was sure to be a long winded explanation for all of this. What he got, however, was a bit different. Five lines of text, and nothing more, save for that insufferable letter once again that told Light exactly nothing about his apparent next client.

 _Hello Light Yagami. I hope this letter finds you alive and well._  
_Enclosed is a pre approved passport for easier travel and a one-way plane ticket from Osaka International Airport to Nottingham City Airport._  
_I am in need of your services; I have a business opportunity for you that you'd do well to consider, should you choose to follow through._  
_Your plane leaves at nine in the morning, which should be several hours from the time you read this. I trust my messenger got there on time._  
_A man in a dark grey trench coat named Wammy will meet with you when your plane is about to take off. He'll fill you in on the way._

_\- L_

      Light stared at the letter, read it over a few more times, then picked up the plane ticket and passport. The passport was an odd-looking thing that lacked a photograph--thank god. If it had already had one, Light would have likely started to panic. Everything seemed so... benign. Of course there was a sinister quality to it all, to the secretiveness, the sudden paranoia that all of his movements up until then had been catalogued and studied by some faceless entity who now wanted him to get on a plane to  _England_  of all places... but there was no threat. No immediate sign of danger, like a stolen gun or a bomb or even a simple threatening tone to the words. Just cold, black letters on a neatly folded piece of paper. Light closed the lid of his gun and sat down beside it, his eyes on the letter but his mind on _that_ letter. L. Just... the letter L.

      Come to think of it... had he seen that somewhere? It was possible. Ever since Light had taken up the job of paid assassination, a hitman, he'd taken measures to keep himself out of the public eye, and therefore keep the public out of his eye as well. Perhaps it had been on the street, passing by a discarded newspaper on the sidewalk. Something about L. The letter L. Something front page news-level of important.

      So was this some kind of joke? Light couldn't deny the suspicion that this was some sort of extremely elaborate prank. Everyone knew that pseudonyms belonged to the world, to anyone. Any human being with half a brain, and likely some species of animals, could type the letter L at the end of a message. But at that very moment, Light decided he didn't care very much who or what L was. What mattered to him was that someone, this L, had his location. His _name_. Information about his job, and the wherewithal to get into his hotel room. Every single one of those things was inexcusable, unaffordable to let slide by without addressing it as quickly as possible, even if it meant taking this L person out for what had now become personal reasons.

      With purpose in his quick movements and unease in his heart, Light Yagami began to pack up his things. The digital clock on the bedside table read a little past four in the morning in glaring red numbers, and Light didn't want to miss his flight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit of a filler chapter, so I'm posting it quicker than normal!  
> That and I'm on spring break, pfft. Hope you enjoy~ ;D;

      Taking the rifle apart and transferring it to a fitted briefcase had given Light some assurance that, indeed, all of the parts were there, right down to the light scuffs on the inside of the silencer. Nothing, to his eyes, had been sabotaged or touched in any way. It had occurred to him, of course, that he would not be able to get the gun past airport security. But Light had curiosity enough to take apart the loop of paper on the spoon, and was pleasantly surprised to find one more message on the inside of the folded slip of paper.

 _Do not throw away your weapon. As I said before, Wammy will take care of you.  
_ _Do not go inside the airport until you have met with him. I wish you a safe flight, Light Yagami._

_\- L_

      Utterly a relief. This gun in particular had served Light very well in his work in Japan, and sentimentality still lingered around it. He'd racked up the most kills with it, and it seemed to shoot the straightest and truest of all the firearms he'd gone through in his career. Both his careers. Light turned the butt of the gun over to run a thumb over the engraved company name _NOTE_. Try as Light may, he never could find a private dealer who would stock anything else from this company. It was almost as if the gun had fallen into his hands in the first place, against his will. But that had been years ago, when he was young and inexperienced and didn't ask questions about whose hands had already held the gun and what repercussions were attached to his ownership of it.

      There had been none, save for a very steady shot that made Light a few too many enemies for his liking. The life of a hitman was safer than his previous job; it was more out of the way. Except when strange Brits sent strange letters about men in trench coats named Wammy and little teaspoons. Light still couldn't quite wrap his brain around it. He hated people who used indirect methods; they infuriated him, most of the time. Of course, when Light was in a more playful mood, he wouldn't mind a game such as this, with little nuance clues and cryptic ciphers to dissolve. Most of the time, however, especially with clients, Light preferred a more straightforward approach.

      These were the thoughts that flitted across Light's eyes as manicured trees rolled past his vision. He'd abandoned his car at the hotel and called a taxi instead, deciding it was a bit simpler that way. L had not told him to bring his car, anyway. Light's lip twitched slightly in annoyance; here he was, following orders and avoiding doing anything outside said orders. Was it because he was scared? Threatened by this threadbare connection?

       Perhaps. Perhaps he was. Instead, Light chalked it up to curiosity; it was easier to explain it to himself, that way, and easier to keep away the nervous tic of fiddling with the number lock on his suitcase. Different password, this time. He repeated the pattern of four numbers in his head as they neared the airport, brown eyes sharp on the number of cars in the parking lot. He wondered which one was Wammy's. He wondered if there even _was_ a Wammy, or if this was all some sort of setup and he would be shot dead as soon as he stepped out of the taxi, or even before.

      "Just let me off here," Light suddenly said. He wanted to move. He wanted to use his legs, his brain; there was something horrendously nerve-wracking about letting someone else drive you. It wasn't so much a nasty case of backseat driving as a need to have his own hands on the steering wheel. Who was to say that this taxi driver didn't know L?

      Light could have hit himself. He was growing paranoid, and that was unacceptable for a man of his focus. He paid the taxi driver and stepped out into the bright light, squinting against the glare of the pavement as he walked with briefcase in hand towards the airport. His other hand was tucked into the pocket of his suit jacket, fiddling with the paperless silver spoon that felt far too heavy now, pressing the flat of his thumb into the hollow of it. As he walked, Light slowly took on an air of calm. The sound of planes taking off in the not-so-far distance, of car doors thumping as they closed and little beeps as they locked, it was all rather soothing to Light. He'd traveled many times before; travel meant a new place, fewer metaphorical landmines to step on regarding the connections of who he'd killed.

      One of the cars didn't beep after it closed.

      Light paused, and slowly glanced in the direction of the car. The red tail lights of a handsome black Aston Martin DB5 stared back at him, only put in park instead of turned off, and Light's eyes flicked to the man getting out of the car. Trench coat, check, and staring right back at him with a placid, intelligent face.

      Well, here goes everything. Light offered something like a smile to the man that he hoped was Wammy, and turned to walk towards him, nodding his head. Before he had the chance to utter out some awkward hello, the man smiled back at him with a serious expression and held out a hand. "The spoon?" he asked, raising bushy eyebrows, and Light stopped short, staring at the gloved hand. Right. Spoon. Fishing into his pocket, Light pulled out the delicate silver piece and placed it in the man's hand, who held it close for a moment to study it before giving it back to Light with a warm smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Light Yagami," he said, bowing respectfully. "I'm sorry for the rather cold, previous introduction. My name is Quillish Wammy."

      "How do you do," Light murmured in English, shaking the man's hand once he'd replaced the spoon in his pocket. He'd been hoping Wammy would take it; he didn't much like having it on him, for whatever reason. "You're... ah, with L, then?" he asked in a whisper, feeling as though he shouldn't just talk about such things in broad daylight in the middle of an airport parking lot.

      Wammy's eyes lit up slightly at that, and he chuckled at Light's hesitation. "Yes, yes I am. I help him in his endeavors, at least." Light was surprised; the man's Japanese was very good, though certainly not to the point of being a native. The man was very much English, but it relaxed Light somewhat to be able to talk in his native tongue. Even so, he would need to get used to English if it meant he'd be staying in Nottingham, now, which seemed to be the case if he lived through the flight. "He's told me that I'll need to take your effects. We rented out a private two-seater plane to transfer any necessities you have that the metal detectors might not like." A sparkle of amusement appeared in Wammy's eyes, and it did nothing for Light's nerves. He was expected to just give his gun to this man? Wammy must have seen his hesitation, for his expression softened to a more earnest one. "You're hardly in any danger, Mr. Yagami. If L or I had any intent to, I could have stolen your gun back at the hotel."

      Light blinked, looking a bit startled at the frank words. He... had a point. He did. Light glanced down at the suitcase in his hand, then slowly held it out to Wammy, who took it with careful hands. The way he held it, Light could catch what looked to be the rather late onset of arthritis, and his brows barely knitted in sympathy. "Thank you very much for your cooperation, Mr. Yagami. L will be pleased to hear that all is going well."

      After a few more quick words of pleasantries and parting, Light tore himself away from the old man. He felt as though if he didn't right then, he'd never let Wammy walk away with his gun. Every step he took away from the scene of transaction made his heart sink lower and lower in his chest. He had no weapon. He'd confirmed his identity, his face, to his client's proxy. Just like that, with little struggle, he'd walked right into L's hands as if he trusted the faceless entity with his life.

      Maybe Light was losing his edge. Or his mind. He wasn't sure which was more ominous.

      As the intercom of the plane buzzed to life and began rattling off tired old instructions about staying seated until ascension was finished and something about restrooms, Light reminisced on the heart dropping embarrassment of the metal detector going off as he'd walked into the lobby. The only thing they could find after a very thorough pat-down was the little silver spoon in his pocket, and he silently damned L for what he was sure was a purposeful jab.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo, man, it's been awhile. I'm really sorry about that!  
> I've had this chapter sitting for ages in my drafts on  
> account of my muse for this story suddenly dropping.  
> But I refuse to let it die so early, so I'm going to pick it back up!  
> As always, thank you for reading!  
> 

Light supposed it was an act of naivety to assume that Wammy would meet him again when he'd gotten off the plane. He knew it was, in some regards, possible; under normal circumstances a two-seater plane could never outfly a jet, but there had been a bit of nasty weather on the way down, which had slowed their progress considerably. Even then, it was farfetched that Wammy would have gotten there before him. Regardless of this, Light still felt a small pang of what could only be anxiety as he found the trenchcoat-swathed man was nowhere to be seen. Of course--he'd been had. It was only reasonable that this whole thing was a sham, and a disgustingly obvious one at that. He'd need to work at getting a new gun as soon as possible, as well as wire the funds for a plane ticket out of the UK, erase all evidence of his name...

At some point Light had stopped in his tracks, pulled out of his thoughts as a few passersby bumped his shoulders. His hands were shaking, and he clenched them tight to stifle it. He'd started from nothing before, and he could do it again. He was older now, wiser (though with this new development, he was beginning to doubt it), he'd make fewer mistakes from here on out. More efficiency, less flair, paring away as much needlessness as possible; yes, he could do it. The speed with which these new plans flew through his head made Light pleasantly dizzy, driving out fear and replacing it with new purpose. Yes, he'd stumbled over the roadblock that was this  _L_ , but he'd move forward all the same. It was refreshing. It was new opportunity, the kind only experienced by those who have lost everything in a fire and must rebuild their lives back to some semblance of control--metaphorically, of course, in Light's case. He didn't exactly have a lot in his possession to literally burn down.

Personal suitcase clenched tight in his hand, Light stalked through the crowd, hazel gaze honed in on every directional sign that bore the promising word  _EXIT_ in smooth white letters until he found the way out. A hotel room was a necessity. He'd think of a new alias on the way there; he always did tend to do his best thinking in the back of a taxi. The movement was stimulating, without the necessity of watching the road.

And then, finally, maybe he'd throw that damned silver spoon into a landfill somewhere. Or maybe he'd track down this L character and politely shove it up their--

"Mr. Yagami?"

Light stopped short and turned towards the voice, squinting against the sunlight that seemed to bounce off of every surface of asphalt around him. The heat that radiated up from the black pavement was stifling, but the familiarity of the voice, even in the busy parking lot, was clear as a bell. Wammy. Light flushed with relief, suddenly a little bit winded. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or enraged that all of his anxiety over being tricked would go to waste.

"I was wondering where you were," Light mused, strolling up to the elderly man, mustering up a cool look to display on his face. No need to let on just how agitated he had been only moments ago, and still was. "I have to say, you gave me a little scare."

Wammy, standing beside a car that Light didn't recognize, offered the younger man a humorous, if not sympathetic, smile. "Thought you'd been stood up?" he chuckled, reaching to open the passenger's side. Light stalled out for a moment, then took his cue and walked towards the car, slipping into the offered seat without a second of hesitation. He decided going with things would serve him well, for now. At the very least, it gave his frayed nerves a false sense of security. "Not to worry, Mr. Yagami--the trip is a short one, from here. But I'm afraid your weapon won't be arriving for another day."

Instantly, alarms went off in Light's head. That wasn't right; no, Wammy should have Light's gun with him. Where the  _fuck_ was his gun?! Confusion of all kinds wrenched Light's jaw open to protest, but Wammy interrupted quickly, voice ever-gentle. "I actually boarded the same jet as you, as per L's request. He prefers to keep his investments under careful supervision. Besides that, there wasn't any room in the plane... L needed a way to get back, too."

"L was in _Japan?_ " Light blurted, then flinched slightly as the passenger door was closed with a thump. His head whipped around as Wammy got into the driver's side, a hand coming up to push brown bangs from his eyes. If L was in Japan, why go to the trouble of going to Nottingham? If they needed to meet, and according to L they did, why not just do it back in Osaka...? Wammy simply hummed in response, a confirmation to Light's question, but clearly not an invitation for any more questions. Fine, then. Light could play it by ear; he hated doing so, but he'd done it before, and he'd do it again now. He couldn't really be confident or certain of much of anything, as long as his gun wasn't in his hands. "I don't suppose I can ask you anything about L, can I?"

Wammy's mustache twitched in what must have been a smile. "That depends. I'd prefer you save your questions for L himself, but I could try to be of some reassurance," he said with a calm, but cheerful air as the car began to move. "And you'll have a night to sleep on all of this, thankfully. There's a hotel within walking distance of where we'll be meeting."

Already, two of Light's questions were answered, so he let his feathers lie flat for the time being. L was a man, and Light had a place that he could stay. The latter had been far more pressing in Light's mind, but the former slaked some curiosity. "This hotel--does L own it?" Light asked. Wammy laughed slightly and shook his head. Light frowned at the laugh, feeling stupid for asking, but managed a smirk in correction. "Then what's to stop me from abandoning all of this and running off? I'm not under contract yet."

Speaking of stupid. Light was stressed, damn it, but this level of impulsiveness was unprofessional. Wammy was silent for a few seconds, lips pursing, before they shifted back into a smile. "You'll come," he said, like he could tell the future. "We have your effects. I know you can replace those, but you've also come this far. You could've ignored L's invitation, but you didn't. Getting a passport back to Osaka would be a chore, as well." Light's eyes narrowed, a short, soft breath expelling from his nose. Fair points.

"What exactly does this job entail, then? L has someone he wants dead?" Light presumed, honestly hoping this would be a quick and clean job. He wanted out of this madhouse, silver spoons and filched guns and all. He knew his gun wasn't technically stolen, but it felt enough like it, so it put him on edge all the same.

"That's better for him to explain," Wammy began, stopping at a light and shifting in his seat. "But it wouldn't hurt for me to give you the gist. He didn't tell me everything, but I believe he's planning to enlist you as a bodyguard of sorts. If that sounds terrible, take it up with L. I'm only the messenger," he added with a humorous note to his voice. Light felt his insides all collectively groan. This wasn't a short job. This wasn't even a job with multiple targets. This was a job with  _no conceivable end_ , and frankly, Light wasn't sure he could deal with that. Even so... he was sure that being a bodyguard had perks. Whether or not they'd be worth dealing with this L person, Light had yet to find out.

"I prefer not to make decisions until I've met the people involved," Light murmured, keeping his voice respectful. Calm. And in a way, it calmed him as well. Sure, L's method of contact was asinine, but his 'messenger' Wammy was kind and comfortable to be around. It was entirely possible that L was just as amicable, if not a little eccentric.

Wammy nodded, pleased by Light's answer. Not much else was said in the car, a few nothings back and forth about how pleasant the weather had been in Osaka, while choosing not to mention how utterly grey it was becoming so quickly. Hadn't it been sunny at the airport? Light glanced out the window at the sky; sun was peeking through thick blankets of cloud, struggling to be seen. "Poor thing," Wammy cooed aloud. "The sun, I mean. It was so nice earlier." Light hummed in response.

Their arrival to the hotel had about as little fanfare as it could have. It was a nice enough hotel, but far more basic than what Light was used to. He didn't dare complain as Wammy checked him in under a name that was unfamiliar to him. He inwardly thanked the old man (and perhaps L--whoever's doing this false name was); he hadn't had a chance to think up a fake identity in the car, despite telling himself earlier that he ought to. Clearly he needed a good night's sleep.

The bed smelled a little too much like detergent, but Light was out within minutes of hitting the sheets. When he woke, it was pouring down rain.


End file.
